


Returning Hero

by dragonwrangler



Series: Fathers and Sons [1]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Community: avengers_tables, Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwrangler/pseuds/dragonwrangler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reconnecting with his son after coming back from the dead proves more difficult than Fury expects. Post Fury/Agent 13 (1998).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Uncertain" on my [Nick Fury prompt table](http://dragonwrangler.dreamwidth.org/169941.html).

The yacht’s right where Nick expects it to be. It’s not the largest in the marina, or the newest. The only thing that makes her stand out is the name painted on her stern: _Sanglo_ ; Carpasian for alone. The fact her name’s changed since he last saw her doesn’t matter since she’s still berthed in the same spot. Nick wonders if the new name is a statement or a warning. Considering the owner it’s probably a little of both.

Nick watches the yacht roll ever so slightly to the left as a swell ripples through the marina and listens to the swell’s passage by the hollow watery thumps as it hits fiberglass hulls and the higher pitched sound the water makes as it breaks around the piers. Swaying slightly, Nick judges the distance between him and the _Sanglo_ and frowns. His son Mikel, decades younger than he is, would have no trouble jumping the distance before him. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t either. If he misjudges things, it’ll cost him a soaking and possibly a few broken bones depending on what he hits on the way down. He’d rather avoid adding to the ones he already has but as tired as he is, a misstep is a distinct possibility.

It would have been smarter to stay at the safe house he’d snagged his change of clothes from instead of standing out in the open trying to figure out how to break into his son’s yacht. It isn’t going to be long before someone at S.H.I.E.L.D. starts going down a list and contacts Mikel as to where the hell his father is. If Nick were smart he’d stay as far away from his son as long as he can until he figures out what the hell he’s going to do next but Nick’s never claimed to be a smart man.

There’s no doubt in his mind S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mobilizing to track him down. He figures he’s got, at the most, another four hours before all his options shut down. Though Stark and Williams were the only two he spotted when he’d jumped through the dimensional portal before going back to pull Sharon Carter out of the pocket dimension his stupidity had landed them in, it’s more than enough to get him back on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar. The only reason he’s got some time before the whole organization is out looking for his ugly mug is Carter. Leaving her behind sets S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bureaucracy into motion. They’ll have to debrief her first and considering the clusterfuck she’d uncovered, Nick has a little more time than usual to get out of sight

It did mean Sharon will probably be the one heading the hunt since this would be the second time he’s thrown her to the wolves but he’ll just deal with that problem later. 

The only thing slowing him down right now, outside of exhaustion and his trouble getting his head around the fact he’s not stuck back in the war, is that he’s legally dead; at least going by what Carter told him after she’d decided not to shoot his head off; a mistake she’s probably regretting right now. There are accounts he can tap into that are untraceable but since he’s not sure exactly how long he’s been gone, he needs time to find his feet before doing anything that might put him back on the grid even if it is under an alias.

It’s not the first time he’s been in this situation but it is the first time he’d gone under without any real plan to get himself out again. Maybe he was getting old.

Deciding that standing around ain’t doing him any good Nick makes the jump to the stern of the Sanglo. It’s not a clean jump and he ends up staggering several steps forward before he can bring himself to a stop but it’s better than going backwards into the drink. Leaning against the port wall, he types the shutoff code to the security system and is relieved when the numbers actually work. Whether he’s fast enough to keep a signal from being sent to the kid’s phone that the system’s been tripped remains to be seen. Hopefully Mikel’s curiosity will be stronger than his urge to shoot first.

After working the lock on the door and stepping inside, Nick sheds his jacket and drapes it across the couch as he passes it. Stepping into the galley area, he unlock a cupboard and retrieve the laptop resting on a shelf inside then drops into a chair at the small dining table and flips the laptop open. As he waits for it to boot up, Nick rests his elbows on the glossy black surface and rubs his eyes. A beep from the laptop alerts him that a password is needed to continue. Nick stares at it for what’s probably several minutes then types in what he thinks the password is. His guess is right on the money. The laptop continues the startup and Nick closes his eyes.

“Touta.”

Nick snaps awake, his hand reaching for his rifle before his mind has a chance to process where the hell he is. He blinks up at his son and for a moment can’t remember his name. By the time he does, Mikel has dropped the handgun that he’d obviously been pointing at his dad’s head to his side but makes no move to put the thing away. Nick watches the way Mikel’s hand tightens around the grip before shifting his gaze to the shorter and younger man standing right behind his son.

It takes longer for Nick to call up his name, and when it does, Nick scowls and snaps, “What the hell is he doing here?”

“No,” Mikel snaps back. “Better question is; what the hell are you doing here?”

Before Nick can even begin to come up with an answer to that, Carlos Ayala—nephew to the head of one of the largest drug Cartels south of the border— asks Mikel in an undertone, “Touta?”

Mikel grinds his teeth and sucks in a breath and, without looking away from Nick, answers, “It’s Carpasian for dad.”

Ayala’s eye widen slightly. “I thought your father was—,” he starts to say but Mikel cuts him off with a snarl.

“So did I.”

Nick scrubs his face and looks at the time displayed on the laptop’s screen and finds the screensaver has kicked in. Irritably sliding a finger across the touchpad, he sees when the time finally comes up that he’s been out for a few hours. A glance outside confirms that; it’s full dark.

Ayala shifts and Nick’s gaze swings back up to him. It’s clear the kid isn’t under arrest; going by the questioning look he’s giving Mikel, he’s back up. He knows Mikel is aware of Ayala’s background and Nick frowns as he looked back at his son. He doesn’t like the implications Ayala’s presence brings up.

They stare at one another then Mikel swears and flicks the safety on as he turns away. Ayala quickly steps to the side to give Mikel more room as the man pops the magazine out and slaps both the gun and magazine on the counter before swinging back around. Nick’s sure Mikel's making that move just to put the temptation to shoot him out of reach when his son shouts, “Why the hell are you here, dad?”

“Surprised you ain’t asking how I can be here since I’m supposed to be dead,” Nick answers before he can consider his words. He can tell it’s the wrong thing to say as he watches Mikel fight down the urge to do some violence.

“Your coffin was removed from your grave a few months after you were buried,” Mikel finally explains. “That’s why I’m not asking the how question first.”

That isn’t what Nick expects to hear. He glances at the laptop. “Carter didn’t mention that.”

“Carter?” Mikel asks just as his phone buzzes. Pulling the phone out of his jacket pocket, Mikel looks at the number displayed on the face of it then swears again. “God damn it.” He flips the phone open and walks past Ayala over to the couch. Nick blinks at the six-pack of beer sitting on one end of the couch. He couldn't remember ever seeing any beer on the yacht before.

“What the hell do you mean, he’s alive?” Mikel says. Nick tenses as he considers his options if his son decides to hand him over right here and now then his shoulders slump. He’ll never get out of the marina before the place is overrun by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents if his son rats him out. Realizing Ayala’s still watching him, Nick gives the man an annoyed look. Ayala stares at him for a few seconds more, his expression thoughtful, before he moves over to where Mikel is standing.

“What makes you think I know where the hell he is, Contessa?” Mikel says as he presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Look; he’s got a safe house up in Queens. If he did pop out of some dimensional rift somewhere near the river then he probably went there to regroup.”

Nick makes a mental note to shut down that safe house as Mikel gives Val the address. He wonders briefly how in God’s name Mikel even knew that place existed.

“I seriously doubt he’s going to come to me for help; and when you do find the son of a bitch let me know so I can beat his sorry ass later.” As he drops his hand and clenches it into a fist, Mikel adds, “Don’t really give a damn what you think, Val, but yeah; thanks for the heads up.” He snaps the phone shut then looks at Ayala.

Neither man says a word then Mikel huffs out a breath and looks away. Ayala nods as he snags the six-pack. “Think I’ll just wait outside,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Mikel responds as he closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.

Nick watches Ayala leave and tries to figure out what’s going on. There’s the possibility Mikel knew Ayala from before the whole Scorpio incident considering all the illegal activities Mikel’s mother had been involved in. It’s not as if Nick really knows all that much about his son. Glancing back down at the laptop, Nick spends a few seconds weighing the pros and cons of hacking S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database to see if he can find such a connection but decides that’s not the best course of action right now. No reason to piss Mikel off any more that he clearly is especially when he needs his son’s help.

Standing up, he walks over to where Mikel is. The kid scowls at him as he turns and snaps, “Why? Why are you here?”

Nick shrugs. “Hopin’ you could misdirect the higher ups while I go to ground for a bit.”

“How the hell do you expect me to do that?”

“Seem to remember they put you in charge before I went and got myself lost.”

A bitter laugh slips out of Mikel and he turns away, rubbing his face as he paces the small area between his father and the door. Beyond the open door Nick can see a few of the marina’s lights and a feeling of vertigo hits when the yacht shifts and sends the outside world tilting in the wrong direction.

“Yeah, as acting director while Castle was gunning for your head,” Mikel says as Nick yanks his gaze back to his son. “And that was three years ago. I got my ass kicked out of S.H.I.E.L.D. after you...” There’s a sharp angry gesture. “Not going to have a hell of a lot of influence here, dad.”

Nick frowns as his gaze flicks to the door again. That’s enough to trip Mikel’s anger into a high burn. His son steps closer. Nick has to grit back a hiss of pain—of course the kid’s aim is spot on—when Mikel stabs him in the shoulder and starts shouting.

“And that’s where your first thought goes? That without your sterling influence I went right back to where I was before you came and saved me from myself? You know what? I tried being exactly what mom wanted me to be and got to watch her die; I tried being what you wanted me to be and got to watch you get shot in the back by Castle and die there in the street. Now here you are, waltzing in like nothing happened and you expect everything to be just fine between us? Well fuck you, dad!”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell em I was here then if you’re so pissed off your old man’s alive?”

“I didn’t do it for you!”

“For Ayala? You’re covering for a drug dealer’s—“

“And what the hell am I, dad? I’m an assassin, a terrorist, and heir to what was once the largest smuggling and money laundering organization in the Eastern Hemisphere. Suddenly finding out I’m your son didn’t change any of that!”

Nick waves dismissively. “I don’t give a damn about—“

“Then why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me what you were up to?”

“You were putting me out to pasture and it wasn’t any of your business!”

“And neither is this!”

“You’re my son, it makes it—“

As he staggers back from the hit, Nick realizes just before the pain flashes out from the impact point that Mikel’s pulled his punch; whether at the last moment or at the start of the swing Nick can’t tell. It still hurts like hell. The left side of his face throbs and he can taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as he straightens up.

As he brings his hand up to stanch the blood dripping out of his nose, he looks at his son. “Feel better?” he grumbles then winces at the pain those few words cause him.

Mikel’s eyes darken and he looks poised to follow through with another punch, his fist slightly raised, but he slowly breathes out and forces himself to relax. He steps quickly around Nick and into the galley to grab a towel that he tosses at his father. “Go clean up, dad,” he says as he walks past Nick and heads outside. “You look like hell.”

Nick stands in the middle of the room lost in thought for several minutes after his son leaves as blood drips down his hand to stain the cream carpet before turning away to head for the shower.

* * *

When he steps outside, Mikel pauses to get his temper under control. He’s not sure what he’s feeling at the moment. Anger is the strongest but it’s all mixed up with several others—betrayal, relief, bitterness, love…

Mikel closes his eyes and clenches his teeth together. His jaw aches from the tension as he drags in a few deep breaths.

Once he feels more in control of himself, he opens his eyes and turns slightly to look up. There’s the sound of a bottle being set down somewhere above him in the area of the bridge. Mikel presses his lips together, sighs, and then climbs up the steep stairs.

In the low lights of the instrument panel, Mikel can see Carlos glancing back at him from the co-pilot’s seat when he gets to the top. Reaching down Carlos pulls a bottle out of the six-pack sitting next to his chair and holds it out, raising an eyebrow in question. Nodding his head, Mikel takes the bottle and drops into the pilot’s seat. Twisting the cap off, he takes a swig then grimaces at the unexpected taste and looks at the bottle. After a glance down at the remaining bottles, Mikel sees that the one he’s been handed is different from the rest sitting there. “What the hell am I drinking?”

“Hey; pulque is an ancient and sacred drink,” Carlos exclaims. “You better not be dissing it.”

“Right. Ancient’s definitely the right word for this.” Mikel takes a smaller sip that’s not much better than the first one then lets his head fall back against the headrest. Next to him, Carlos shifts then says, “So; your dad’s the head of S.H.I.E.L.D., huh?”

Mikel gives him a look. “Not sure if he's still considered that and does it really matter which Fury my dad is?”

Carlos shrugs. “To me? Nope. If my uncle ever finds out I’m hanging out with Nick Fury’s son though…” Carlos raises his bottle and tilts the neck towards Mikel as he grins. “Make sure you drink a toast in my memory cause you’ll never find all the pieces to put me back together again.”

Mikel taps his bottle against Carlos’s. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.”

“So.” Carlos leans back in his chair and downs a hell of a lot more of the drink than Mikel’s willing to risk in one shot then asks, “What now?”

“I’ve got no idea.” Mikel rubs his eyes then runs his fingers through his short hair before dropping his hand to the armrest. “You better give my apologies to everyone for backing out of tonight’s party. Not going to be the best of company right now.”

“Trish’ll be disappointed.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to help her get over her disappointment.”

Another grin flashes across Carlos’s face. “I’ll do my best.” As the grin fades, Carlos glances back then leans a little towards Mikel; a slightly puzzled look on his face. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t know he was your dad?”

Mikel scowls then swallows what’s left in the bottle before shaking his head. “We haven’t known each other long enough for me to even begin explaining that one.”

“Fair enough.” They sit in silence for a few moments before Carlos speaks up again. “You know, your dad’s not what I expected.”

“Hm?”

“Guy’s the closest thing to the boogeyman my family has. I always expected him to be…”

“Taller?” Mikel grumbles.

“No. Not as worn out looking, I guess. I mean, wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley but he didn’t seem to have all that much fight in him.”

“If you say so.” Mikel stares out at the little bit of the Manhattan skyline that’s just visible through the window and wonders, not for the first time, why the hell he stayed. Has he been waiting for this to happen the whole time?

“Bottle’s going to break if you keep gripping it like that you know.”

“What?” Blinking, Mikel looks down. The knuckles of the hand holding the bottle are white. Forcing his hand open, Mikel carefully sets the bottle down. Carlos rests a finger against his temple. The bottle rises up and floats over to the cardboard carrier the rest of the bottles are in. It then slowly settles into one of the empty spaces. Carlos drops his hand and drains his own bottle before placing it in the last empty space.

“Think you’ve got a few issues to deal with,” he says.

“Think you need to mind your own business,” Mikel mutters back.

“Probably. If you need any help burying the body, just let me know.” After a quick glance at his watch, Carlos stands. “I should get going or neither one of us is going to enjoy the night.” He points at the six-pack. “Help yourself to what’s left. Think you’re going to need those more than me.”

“Are they more of the same?”

“No—Budweiser.”

“Not sure if that’s an improvement or not.” Pushing out of his seat, Mikel follows Carlos back down. Holding out a hand, Mikel says, “Tell Trish I’ll call her sometime tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” Carlos answers as he clasps the hand and shakes it. “See you Monday in class?”

Blowing out a breath, Mikel answers, “We’ll see.”

Carlos chuckles as he rests his other hand on Mikel’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, hermano.”

Mikel rolls his eyes. “Yeah; thanks.”

* * *

It takes Nick longer than he’d like to admit to strip out of his clothes and pull off the bandages Carter had wrapped around his chest and shoulder. Has it only been less than a day since that happened? He’s having a little trouble believing it—it feels a hell of a lot longer—but going by the marks on his body, that’s about how much time has passed. He presses a spot on his side and only feels a slight twinge of pain, The Infinity Formula’s already knitted up the busted ribs he’d gotten from getting thrown through the air after blowing up a tank, and the bruises related to that incident are hitting the yellowing stage now. He knows from experience that the swelling from the punch Mikel hit him with will be gone by the time he steps out of the shower. The bruising that’s beginning to blacken his eye he can use to his advantage. Strip off the eye patch and it’ll take a few seconds longer for anyone to recognize him. A little hair dye to cover the white streaks in his hair will help even more. The store he’d passed two blocks up from the marina should have some; he can have Mikel pick some up—

Scowling, Nick turns away from his reflection and yanks the hot water on. His first thought shouldn’t be about sending his son out like some low level agent. It should be how to patch up the mess he’s made but he’s got no clue as to how he’s supposed to do that.

Stepping into the shower, Nick focuses instead on scrubbing the grime and blood off before leaning against the wall to soak up the heat. It’s been years since he’s been able to indulge in a luxury of a hot shower. As he looks up, he can’t tell where the white wall ends and the ceiling begins. For a moment there’s a sensation of falling; of struggling for air as he’s sucked back into the pocket dimension he’s just escaped from. The room spins and Nick presses his back hard against the wall and closes his eye until all he can hear is the sound of the water pattering against the floor, and his harsh breathing. Without opening his eye, he angrily brushes the water back from his face and quickly steps out of the shower. He finds the sink by feel and grips the edge hard as he waits for his heart to stop trying to jump up his throat.

Annoyed with himself, Nick looks up and glares at his reflection before pushing away to get dressed.

When he gets back up to the galley, he’s not surprised to find it empty. He glances at the laptop then decides he better find out first if he’s been left to his own devices before using the thing again.

As soon as he steps outside, he finds Mikel sitting on the molded seat next to the door. Mikel stares up at him, a beer raised halfway to his lips.

“When’d you start drinking?” Nick asks.

Mikel seems to struggle with himself for a second then mutters, “That apparently what you do on your birthday.”

“Shit.” Nick rubs his forehead. That hadn’t even registered when he’d checked the date.

When he drops his hand, he finds his son holding a beer out. Taking it, Nick drops down next to his son. After downing some, Nick asks, “So, how was my funeral?”

It takes a few seconds for Mikel to respond. “About what you’d expect-- especially when someone realized the Hulk was there.” 

As Nick tries puzzling out why Banner would have been at his funeral, he notices Mikel side-eyeing him. When he raises an eyebrow in question, Mikel adds, “Your sister was pretty upset about the whole thing.”

“Dawn was there? Ah, hell.” Leaning forward, Nick rests his elbows on his thighs and stares down at the bottle in his hand. The last time he’d talked to his sister he’d told her their brother Jake was dead.

“What did she say when you introduced yourself?”

“We didn’t meet.”

Nick frowns at his son. “Why not?”

“I wasn’t in the mood to be diplomatic so I just watched it all from a distance.” Mikel narrows his eyes as he asks, “Take it you told Logan what you were up to?”

Shaking his head, Nick answers, “Didn’t tell anyone. What makes ya think I told Logan anything?”

Mikel shrugs. “Most of the Howlers figured you were pulling a fast one till Logan stepped up to the coffin and said something that shut them up. I assumed he was putting on some kind of act since it’s obvious you weren’t the one in that coffin.”

“Huh. So the thing was that good, huh?” He takes a sip from his beer then explains, “It was an LMD I commissioned directly from Stark. Didn’t have any plan in mind when I asked for the thing. Decided I’d use it when the lot of ya sidelined me during the whole mess with Castle. Mind telling me what happened to him?”

“Castle?” There’s a huff of annoyance from Mikel. “Last I saw him he was hanging out with the Geracis family.”

“Though you said he shot me. You didn’t haul his ass in?”

That question gets him a sullen look. “We brought him in, tried him, sentenced him, and fried him on the chair; or so we thought,” Mikel says as he sets his beer down. “That took about as well as your death did.”

Suddenly standing up, Mikel digs into a pocket and pulls out a key ring. After working one off, he hands it to Nick. Taking it, Nick recognizes it as the key to his Manhattan apartment. “For whenever you’re ready to get back to the real world,” Mikel explains as he pockets the rest. “You can use the yacht for as long as you want.”

“Where are you gonna be?”

His son scowls at him. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find me if you really want to know.”

“Mikel.” Mikel pauses and turns slightly to look back. Whatever words Nick wants to say get stuck in his throat. They stare at one another then Mikel’s gaze slides away and he jumps off the _Sanglo_ and quickly strides away without once looking back.

It’s a long time before Nick heads back inside to start picking up the pieces of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Characters are the property of Marvel Entertainment LLC. This fic was written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is being made from it.
> 
> Since Marvel places Carpasia in the Split-Dalmatia county of Croatia in the Marvel Atlas, I used Dalmatian words I found online for Carpasian.


End file.
